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Dramatic Mental Healing

As of this month, when everyone goes to bed, I strip down to either complete nudity or just topless. For so long I haven't really been able to just be nude with myself. For too long clothes have covered up everything. Tight and restricting. Reminding me of the fat. Negative fat. Painful and sweaty. Hot and rashy. Constricting. Just for too long.

Off with the clothes! Let me see my skin and body again! And you know what? It's really been helping me. Freeing.

This evening, I'm just topless, and I can feel Minoan energy around me--I can feel the Minoan Snake Goddess and Ariadne in my home, flowing through me. I know other cultures have topless women and goddesses, but this is specific Minoan energy.

I did a bit of belly dancing, mostly just the shimmies and the stretches--back is still healing, you know, I can't go HAM yet. Still working on my flexibility and back strengthening.

For a while I was ashamed and embarrassed about my body, but back-to-back pregnancies changed that. Ain't no such thing as modesty in pregnancy. I don't really care if others see my nude body. The way I see it, you see one body, or tits for that matter, you've seen them all. Ain't no one more special than the other. I give zero shits. Now that's not saying that I'm inconsiderate to my neighbors or anything that like. Sometimes in public I do like to dress more modest, but not all of the time.

In the fall of last year, I stopped wearing bras. They were painful and I was tried of getting rashes under the breasts and needing help to put on and take off the damn thing. I still like wireless front fastening bras, but I don't wear any very often. Especially as a larger woman, bras just suck. Most of mine sit in the dresser, unloved. Sometimes, especially during my cycle, I may wear them because of pain, but overall I don't really care. Oh, and when I work out, I wear sports bra because jogging hurt my chest. I need the added supoort.

Let them be free and let em droop. It's natural. Bras aren't a thing everywhere and many women do just fine without them, but then they may not have impossible beauty standards that some other areas do. Or stupid taboos. Like I'm wearing a shirt, my tits are covered, I don't need to wear a bra to make you comfortable, and no, I'm not flirting. I'm just not wearing a fuckin bra.

I'm 35 and I've had 4 pregnancies, they're not going to stay perky without surgery, and I don't want that kind of surgery. I ain't against it, but I don't want it. It took me a while to love them. Even when they were perky, I didn't love them. A lot of that has to do with my abusive sexist pig father, who saw women as sex toys and servants. I hit what made me female for a long time.

Then I felt ashamed for how pregnancy changed me.

How my breasts were two empty milk bags flapping in the breeze.

But then last year, through Kat Shaw and other artists, I began to see my body and breast in a different light. Society pressures women to reproduce. Pregnancy changes out bodies. Society scolds us for those changes that are some forced on women.

I saw a photo shoot of a woman who did a post pregnancy photo shoot, loving her body for the miracle it gave her. It changed the way that I see my drooping breasts and hips and other areas (not that I've ever had an issue with stretch marks). I began to honor my body for producing life--for giving me my 4 boys, even if the oldest one died in miscarriage. Nathan was here for an important reason. The other three are healthy, happy, and smart. My body helped create them. Carried them for 37 and 34 wks(x2).

With the last baby, my body went into early labor because something was wrong. When the nurses and doctors told me not to push, my body kept saying to push, which a nurse finally listened and let me push him out. If we had waited any longer, my baby would've died. He was in distress and they didn't know why. The cord was wrapped around his neck. My body knew and the rest is history. I thank and honor her for that.

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